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Fight them on the Beaches (IC)

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Chromium shifted rapidly into his human form, the night light glinting off of his silver body that he got his name from, noting the great creator of the four sided triangle and grinned, his helmet and tabard would work nicely. Letting the face suckers do what they do best he liberated the clothing he needed, hesitated a moment then grabbed the sword and buckled it around his waist as well. Now he looked like a nice shiny knight of Anarchy himself.

 

Striding out of the ally he made his way into the festivities themselves, ready to learn what he could about these Knights, participate in some of the events and possibly even save a damsel in distress...well likely not, striding forward he had to smirk, he was a young man and the night was alive with possibility.

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GM

 

The chain mail and helmet sparkled rather nicely under the starlight and moon. The neon signs also gave a rether resplendent reflection in the polished metal. 

 

There were a group of about a dozen knights, and another dozen onlookers and well wishers drinking heavily and talking freely. 

 

"Sir Prize will be there at midnight. A joust, a melee, a glorious feast!" said one. 

 

They all spoke in a rather mangled form of old English (or at least, what an American thought old English would be) with the occasional slip into American accents and slang. 

 

"Verily! Twill be Awesome!" replied another, as a case in point. 

 

"Lady Key will be present too!" noted a third. This grew some appreciation, but muted. For Lady Key was a newcomer and they were not sure she should be trusted as she was. It had nothing to do with gender, for clearly some of the Knights of Anarchy were women. This was not a men - only motorcycle club. 

 

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Chromium, as always a young man before being a super hero, listened attentively but wasn't entirely sure how he got a cup of something that smelled very alcoholic but he listened attentitively before finding strange ways to drink without having to lift his helmet too much. Spotting one of the people who seemed a little less enthusiastic about Lady Key, or so he thought, he sidled up to them and leaned in,"What's up with this Lady Key? I mean where did she come from?"

 

Hey you never knew unless you asked, and sometimes pretending drunken straightforwardness would get you drunken honesty and lead him to better conclusions. Just who was this Sir Prize? And what were his intentions, was this Lady the Key to his investigations? Only time would tell....right now he had a surplus of questions and no answers.

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"Lady Key?" said one of the Knights. Again, his accent slipped around from Europe a thousand years ago to Freedom City of today. And possibly a little bit of viking thrown in for good measure. 

 

"Ja, she is Sir Prize's lady of boom!" he said, proudly. "Except...nobody really knows her..."

 

"You don't know anything you mean....!" said one of his drunken friends, who slapped in on his back and downed half a bottle of whiskey. It looked like he might be decorating the street with a pavement pizza later on the night. At least, if his stomach did its job and decided to eject its contents. 

 

This brought some laughter and a bit of shame. "Yeah, nobody really knows about Lady Key. Or where she comes from. Just that she is a wizard with explosives and fireworks! Should be a show tonight when the contest is won. By me!" he boasted, to save face. 

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Chromium laughed along with the rest of the drunken louts, doing his best to join them by guzzling at the cup he had in his hand while the others talked and harpooned each other with alcohol fueled jests,"Pray tell...what kind of competition is there going to be? Jousting on the back of faithful motorbike steeds?"

 

A wizard with explosives? That was slipped in there right next to fireworks, but what exactly had the Knights of Anarchy been blowing up,"Has she blown up anything cool recently?"

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GM

 

"Jousts! Jousts! JOUSTS!"

 

It transpired the Knights of Anarchy were planning various activities, from oil wrestling to cheese rolling to haggis throwing (or so they claimed), but Jousts! was clearly their favourite. And, as Chromium had summised, this was motorcycle jousting!

 

The clock was ticking towards midnight and more and more people were congreting by the beach. Drinks flowed and frothed, dancing, a mish mash of music (metal and classical, for the main), and more Knights of Anarchy. Plus all sorts of other anarchists and artists who associated themselves with this underground movement but were not part of the motorcycle club itself. 

 

Some people had phoned the police, and the police were there, but as no crimes were being committed, there was not much they could do other than have a patrol car parked a while away, ready to speed into action if there was any trouble. Now, given this was anarchists, and police did not go down well with anarchists, "ready to speed into action" meant turning around and running away, waiting for the riot squad. 

 

And as the clock got nearer and nearer to midnight, who should arive...but Fascimile!

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Atop his own steel steed, black chassis polished to a shine Facsimile clad in anonymous brilliant white from head to toe, only his blue mirrored visor breaking it up, engine roaring and rumbling as he pulled up onto the beach, deploying the stabilizing kick stand into the sand and dismounting, he took a brief moment to roll his shoulders and neck as he scanned the crowd for signs of this Sir Prize fellow or anyone else of interest before making his way over to the main crowd of people.

 

"I am facsimile and I have journeyed here to give unto you the gift of battle!" He boomed in his best faux Shakespearian accent "test your mettle on mine if you dare!"

 

 

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Fascimile's roar of pride and challenge drew a massive cheer and applause from the crowd, peppered with wolf-whistles and sloshed drinks raised high. He was instantly offered a large keg of beer and a tin helmet complete with viking horns. 

 

Viking horns and lances?

 

That's right. The Knights of Anarchy may have revered older ages, but they did require accuracy in their history. Far from it. There was even a large guy brandishing a katana with one hand and a chainsaw in another. 

 

The battered Knight from before, with two black eyes and a swollen nose, still dressed in blood-spattered chain mail, pushed through the crowds. 

 

"By Odin, you came!" he said, rather shocked. But he looked pleased; and quickly took credit for the new and interesting arrival. 

 

"I invited him! He came!" he yelled out, to cheers (of slightly less volume). 

 

He put his arm around Fascimile in a friendly manner. "Now, lets get you kitted out! Some armour! A lance! A mace! What's you fancy, sir?"

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Chromium wondered around, admiring their enthusiasm and their excitement. Sadly he had no bike to play with, so was relegated to spectator, and if he was lucky he might take part in the haggis throwing.

 

He snickered at that, he had thought they meant the caber toss, but haggis throwing was even more amusing. Tossing a sheep's stomach across the beach would be most amusing. He was making use of all his ill spent time watching Monty Python and the Holy Grail to say random medieval things and try and fit in with the anarchists...although period accurate they were not.

 

Of course should he find a motorcycle some one would lend to him, well he would leap at the chance to charge into action....so to speak.

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"I shalt take a Lance for I intend to joust, drink and feast!" Facsimile boomed in response to his acquaintance.

 

He had always had a big personality so pushing himself out there wasn't difficult but he kept a small voice on repeat within his mind.

 

I'm here on duty.

 

"Let us away so I may garb myself for battle."

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GM

 

As it happened, there was a motorcycle free for bystanders to use in a joust, although in truth few were bold enough to use it. But for Chromium, the motorcycle was there!

 

And Fascimile was offered a lance and a helmet and an almost shiny suit of chain mail! He had a very nice bike, so of course he was more than welcome to joust. 

 

The Haggis was thrown, and the cheese was rolled. But this was all warm up!

 

BrrrrrrroooooooooooM!

Sir Prize had arrived!

 

Roaring down the beach on a thick-tyred, furiously powerful motorcycle, Sir Prize was a large man dressed in shiny plate mail with full helm. His face was osbcured but no doubt it would be a cool face, for he drove in a cool way. Having a longsword strapped to his back and spinning a spinked flail over his head as he streamed past the applauding crowd was certainly slightly very cool. Slightly very cool indeed. 

 

"LET THE GAMES BEGIN!" roared the loud, low voice as he drove past. 

 

And the Jousting was up!

 

Chromium and Fascimile both were offered a joust against a Knight of anarchy. And a chance to win the suprise prize of Sir Prize!

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Alex felt his competitive streak get the better of him and stripped off the outer layers of his costume to fit the chainmail and helmet, leaving him in white morphic molecule under armour topped with chainmail and a matching balaclava behind the horned helmet he has been offered.

 

"Of course I accept the challenge!" He answered perhaps a little more excited about it than he should've been.

 

And once he'd brought his bike around and hefted the Lance into its resting place beneath his arm he revved his engine in anticipation of the event.

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GM

 

Broom broom, and thrice broom!

 

The engines roared, and the crowd cheers, and the police car stood by wondering if this was legal or not. Opinion was divided on the matter, but nobody (bar the cops) seemed to care. Because it sure was fun!

 

Alex zoomed forward, as did his opponent, a good 100 feet between them. It was hard to get traction in the sand, and there was a wobble in his opponent. 

 

Alex had the advantage! More speed, more stability, as he expertly powered him motorcycle through the beach. 

 

BAM!

 

His lance splintered, and the Knight of Anarchy that had been foolish / drunk / both enought to challenge him was rudely unhorsed (or rather, unbiked)

 

The crowd went wild!

 

And the Knight of Anarchy had his face in the sand, dazed and confused. 

 

"Hurrah for the noble..." roared the Knight at the other end of the stretch of beach, patting Alex on the back. "Say, what was your name again?"

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Chromium grabbed the gear offered, vanished into a change room to get into his armor, no wanting to expose his silvery skin and grabbed a lance once his helmet was firmly on. Leaping on to the bike he gave it a few revs, trying to position himself to handle the bike and the lance at the same time. It was not as easy as the other guy had made it look. Still Chromium was one to give everything his best shot and was soon flying along the ground with the lance gripped firmly in one hand and his tongue sticking out of his mouth in concentration....sadly hidden under his helmet as it would have been a most comical sight.

 

Now that he had the hang of it he headed off to the joust, and for now was doing his best just to hit the guy coming towards him and stay upright...it was likely he would get to do both.

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Once again the engines roared, the lances levelled, the sand kicked up. The crowd screamed and cheered and drank (one poor woman did all at the same time, and collapsed coughing furiously). 

 

This time, the spectacle was even more spectacular! For both lances splintered, and both Chromium and his enemy were de-horsed / de-biked. 

 

Crunching into each other at this speed was dizzying and dazing. Chromium found himself with a head full of cobwebs and his face in the sand. 

 

But he was no better off, or worse off, than the Knight of Anarchy he had unseated, who was trying to stand, and wobbled as he did so. 

 

The crowd loved it of course. 

 

"MELEE! MELEE!" roared Sir Prize. It seemed that in these situations, the contest was decided on foot. The Knight wobbled again, and staggered towards Chromium, trying to get the mace out of his belt....

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Chromium drew the longsword at his waist, giving it a few swings to get the feel of it, his sheer strength setting it whistling through the air as he approached his opponent. With silver teeth bared, under his helmet, he charged forward. The heavy mace of his opponent swung towards him and he ducked under it just in time, almost as surprised as his foe that he had managed to duck but using his momentum he swung his sword at the midsection at the mail clad knight the aim simply to get him in close.

 

Chromium had learned many things since been infected with the Macrophage virus, but some of his oldest tricks were learned on the wrestling mats of his expensive private school where he had done rather well at that and all he was trying to do was get close enough to wrap this mail clad moron in a bear hug and squeeze him into submission.

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The sword connected with mail with a pleasant "TING!" sound, and a few little sparks. The crowd cheered, and the Knight doubled over, grunting in pain. Not enough to wind him, but enough for Chromium to take him down to the sand, with his arms clenched around the Knight's arms and shoulders. 

 

The Knight scrabbled around vainly trying to break Chromium's grip, but the victory was complete. The Knight was a fairly strong fellow, but had nowhere near the strength of Chromium, who was powered by more than muscle and bone. 

 

"VICTORY!" yelled Sir Prize, and the crowd went wild!

 

A firework was set off. Rather carelessly, but fortunately it didn't explode in anyone's face. 

 

The bested Knight pounded the sand in frustration, his mailed hands getting clogged up with wet sand. 

 

"And now! With two contenders left! THE PRIZE!" said Sir Prize. The two contenders being Chromium and Fascimile. "I am MOST VEXED that my only knights could not defeat you STOUT WARRIORS!" he laughed through his full helm. "But I SALUTE YOUR BRAVERY!"

 

He held a big keg of beer in each hand and offered it to Chromium and Fascimile. 

 

"NOW THEN!" he finished. "WOULD YOU DO ME THE HONOR OF FIGHTING EACHOTHER?"

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Facsimile's response was to raise his Lance in salute from the back of his motorcycle and revving is engine swerve back to the starting position of the jousting lane, his Lance offered out over the crowd for weapon bumps from the spectators in the front row as he settled into position leveling his Lance and gesturing wordlessly with his hand for the other new contestant to make his way to the other end.

 

maybe a bit too much but it's not like anyone is going to get hurt from a bit of friendly competition....right?

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Chromium struck a pose, flexing his arms at the crowd even though he knew they couldn't see his very impressive physique. With that done he lifted his bike from the ground, grinning as he did so with one hand, grabbing his lance and climbing aboard. He knew he'd gotten lucky the last time, this was not something he was any good at, and it seemed the other guy had done this before..or something. Driving carefully to the other end of the lists he put his foot down and revved the bike engine....smirking a little as a plan formed in his head.

 

There were certain things that were very, very helpful about being a being made of super dense metal and perhaps he could put that to use this time. He lifted his lance to the crowd, giving the engine one more rev as he waited for the signal to go.

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Whilst Sir Prize's face was concealed by his shiny helmet (bar the glint of his eyes), one could almost feel the big grin of approval. He swung his spiked flail around his head three times to signal approval. The crowd of course, loved the show. 

 

The police didn't know what to do. This was a public space, right, the beach? What laws were they breaking? Probably some, but breaking it up would require the riot police - and would be a messy business even then. 

 

"WELL THEN! LET US SEE HOW HAS THE MOST METTLE! LET...BATTLE...COMMENCE!" roared Sir Prize, slamming the head of the flail down to the sand. The signal for the final joust!

 

The crowd seemed to have grown, and seemed to be even louder. The cheers and screams were almost deafening. There was the smell of engines, alcohol and sweat, and even a little blood, in the air. Even the sea seemed to register its approval, waves rising and falling just a little more impressively than before.

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With the crash of the wave still ringing in his air alex's engine roared to life and he blazed forth with his Lance raised slightly.

 

His opponent had superhuman strength on his side and whilst he had considered the use of his own powers to match his strength against theirs he had opted to keep that part of himself to himself and instead...well.

 

He waited till the last moments before impact to raise his bike onto its back wheel, the motorcycle acting as a shield between himself and his foes Lance (or so he hoped) and with the advantage of the high ground a twisting thrust with his own weapon aimed for the unbalanced center of gravity that the unweildy weapon  gave him to act as a lever and flick his opponent from his seat.

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The engine on his borrowed bike howled in anger as Chromium revved the engine, he didn't know who the other driver was and under his mail and clothing he was pretty sure the other driver didn't know who he was. Still this was fun! With a squeal of tires he started towards his foe, but planning on taking advantage of his unique physique he brought the bike to a halt with a screech of tires. Planting his feet on the ground as he grabbed the lance with both hands slamming it forward in the hopes his sudden maneuver would allow him to both surprise his foe and prove too much to get him knocked off of his bike.

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The Crowd screamed and cheered louder than ever as the two lances splintered and sundered. Both Fascimile and Chromium took a nasty hit, but somehow both stayed on their bikes. 

 

"ANARCHY!" roared Sir Prize. 

 

"ANARCHY!" roared the crowd. 

 

"BOOOM!" came the series of explosions across the waterfront. 

 

Anarchy indeed. The sound was deafening, and there was dust and rubble and even a little fire. Several explosions had occurred along various buildings up and down the street!

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Alex grunted with exertion as he Lance broke across his chest and his arm strained against the push back of his own weapon.

 

He rounded and prepared to charge again when the explosions went off the all hell broke loose along the water front.

 

It was a sobering moment to be lost in the cacophony of chaos that brought him out of his fierce competitiveness.

 

"I forfeit!" He yelled over the crowd as tossed aside what remained of his Lance and with both hands on the handlebars tore away to the scene of the nearest bombing to provide first responder aid.

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Chromium saw stars, his own lance shattering with the weight of his blow but certainly he had acquitted himself well. Shaking his head again he realized the buzzing in his ears was not from the lance hit but the result of the explosions near by. His opponent dashed off and Chromium cursed and gunned his own bike, darting off after the part-time foe as he headed towards the scene of the explosions. First aid was not his strength but getting people out of the rubble, and finding out what had caused the explosion certainly was.

 

"Yeah, nobody really knows about Lady Key. Or where she comes from. Just that she is a wizard with explosives and fireworks! Should be a show tonight when the contest is won. By me!" 4

 

Was this the work of Lady Key? The Wizard with explosives? There was only one way to find out, but first he had to save the people he could.

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